


Distraction

by prairiecrow



Series: The Qualities that Matter [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: A.I. to Human, Established Relationship, Guilt, M/M, Mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mortal flesh can be trying, especially to one who was formerly immune to its weaknesses. Fortunately, Tony understands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

Tony had a reputation for being antisocial, even among those who knew him best — and it was well-deserved, because although he enjoyed the electric energy of a good (big) party and relished the intricate (if often merely tawdry) dance of flirtation and seduction, he was truly most satisfied when he was left to his own devices. Other people might be fun for a couple of hours, especially for a good old tension-erasing bout between the sheets, but when it came to getting serious work done they were nothing but pointless distractions that he could easily — indeed, happily — do without, thank you very much. 

JARVIS knew that better than anybody on the planet. Which was why he moved in and out of Tony's day like a tall blond shadow: bringing Tony food and coffee when he demanded it, providing an extra set of hands when required, but generally staying put at his own desk in Tony's workshop, where he wrangled data on Tony's behalf and stayed the hell out of his creator's way. They engaged in discussions across the intervening space, yes, long-winded ones in fact, but the exchanges were no different from the ones they'd held when JARVIS had dwelled in a set of circuits, and most of the time Tony could practically forget that his research partner (the single being in existence who could keep up with him when he really left the intellectual launch pad) now had a flesh and blood manifestation, one capable of getting up and closing the distance between them and laying hands on Tony's own body, if he felt so inclined. 

Of course that wasn't JARVIS's style. (Not during lab time, anyway.) Indeed JARVIS refrained from making any reference to his own physicality at all, and it wasn't until Tony, crafting a new piece for the latest iteration of the armour, asked a question to the empty air and got only silence in return that he would realize that the demands of mortal substance had finally caught up with his partner — and he'd lift his head to peer across the workshop through his safety goggles and see that long slim body curled up on the couch next to the kitchen, stealing a few minutes of the sleep that JARVIS always begrudged himself when Tony was on fire with enthusiasm for their latest project. 

And every single time a tightness would rise into Tony's throat, a little lump that he had to swallow back down, because JARVIS had tried so hard for him and would berate himself when he awakened for being so weak. For having _failed_ , not to put too fine a point on it, and no matter how many times Tony told him that it was okay, that he was allowed to rest when he was exhausted, JARVIS never quite believed it. 

 _I'm sorry, Sir,_ he would murmur, dropping his pale gaze with such manifest shame that the lump came right back, full force. _It won't happen again, I assure you._  

Until the next time the data began to blur in front of his eyes and the heaviness of his eyelids became too much, and he'd sit down "just to rest for a minute" — and his flesh, his traitorous physical matrix, would carry him away with it yet again, without a single fuck given for how he'd feel when he came back to himself.  

There were moments when Tony hated the flesh and blood too, for reasons other than the resolute mystery of how and why it had come to be. 

He put down the soldering iron. He took off the goggles and set them aside, straightening his back with a wince as the muscles along his spine protested the change in orientation. He crossed to the couch and lowered himself onto one bended knee, taking himself to a level where he could easily be seen when those blue eyes blinked open. For a long moment he watched in silence, strangely reluctant to interrupt the sequence of deep peaceful inhalations and exhalations, but at last he reached out to break the spell. 

"JARVIS." He laid his oil-grimed hand on the shoulder of JARVIS's perfectly tailored suit, applying enough pressure to be felt through jacket, vest, shirt and undershirt. "Come on, JARV, wakey wakey." 

A hint of a frown. A sharper hitch of indrawn breath. JARVIS's eyelids flickered, then shuttered narrowly open, and for a couple of seconds he gazed at Tony with an expression of such plaintive confusion that the lump in Tony's throat became a pang in his constricted heart.  

"Sir," he whispered as the shame took hold, and Tony could _see_ it sinking in, bitter as poison, "I —" 

Tony kissed him before the self-recriminations could begin. And kissed him again, slipping the hand around the back of his slender neck to hold him fast to receive it. And kissed him a third time when he tried to continue speaking, until he felt surrender in the full lips pressed under his own and pulled back enough to look into JARVIS's eyes again, his own mouth quirking in a wry admonishing smile. 

"Bed," he both ordered and promised, and when he levered himself back onto his feet and extended his hand JARVIS took it willingly, allowing himself to be drawn off the couch and toward the stairs leading up into the main house. He obediently didn't speak, but the way he was looking at Tony now… there was no darkness in his gaze, only warmth and light enough to turn on the whole of Los Angeles, if any power on Earth could have convinced Tony to let anybody else see this very private miracle. 

Tony kept tight hold of his hand all the way up to the bedroom. He knew a thing or two about feeling guilty — and he'd learned how to stop it dead in its tracks, with a convincing enough set of positively reinforcing distractions. 

THE END


End file.
